Darling, It's Cold Up There
by organanation
Summary: Perry and Della spend Christmas Eve in the cabin. Ft background Paul/Gertie and Paul Jr.


_AN: Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate, and Happy Hanukkah to those of you who celebrate! I wish you all a wonderful time celebrating with loved ones!_

Snow didn't commonly fall in this part of the hills, but it wasn't completely unheard of. Normally, Della drew the plaid curtains against the drafty mountain air and the lights from town across the lake. Tonight, though, she left the curtains thrown wide so they could see the flakes floating past the window.

They were wrapped up in the woven-wool tribal blanket, squished together against the arm of the couch and watching the snow. A fire crackled on the hearth, giving the room a woodsy smell that mixed with the sweet scent of the Douglas Fir tree in the corner.

"We should get up to bed or Santa Claus won't come," Della teased.

"It will be awfully cold up there," Perry murmured sleepily. "We could just stay here all night."

"As comfortable as I am right now, I don't think _either_ of us will feel that way after another hour of sitting like this," Della returned.

"The risk seems worth the reward," he replied, sitting up and combing his hand through her hair.

"I'll finish my wine, I suppose," Della acquiesced, reaching for her half-empty glass and settling in against his chest.

"Good idea. Darling, your hands are freezing. You can't go upstairs like that," he protested, covering her free hand with both of his.

"I forget how strong this island wine is," she murmured, though she knew the dizzying flush she was feeling wasn't just from the Madeira.

"I like how it makes your eyes sparkle," he whispered into her ear. "Like stars in the middle of the desert."

"Flattery, Mr. Street, is a cheap trick," she scolded. "It _might_ just get you everywhere…"

"Is that so, Mrs. Mason?" he teased, hugging her tightly. "In that case, your hair looks lovely tonight."

She'd give him whatever he asked for, agree to anything he suggested when he whispered in her ear like that, his voice low and quiet and only for her. He kissed along the shell of her ear as Della drained her glass.

"Lover, I'm exhausted," Della whispered. "I need to go to bed. I'm hosting a Christmas gathering tomorrow and I'd like to be well rested."

"It's cold up there," Perry reminded.

"And I am very appreciative of how warm you've made me in preparation for the arctic plunge," she returned, adjusting her position so she could see his face.

"Look at that snow falling. Regular blizzard."

"The Drakes will be here for brunch in the morning," she whispered, leaning into his kiss.

"Mhm," he murmured, tipping her chin back for another kiss.

"I'm going upstairs now, Love," she said, struggling to sit up and extract herself from their cocoon of blankets.

"You wound me, my darling," he teased, following her off the couch and up the stairs.

The loft was as cold as he'd promised, and Della bit back regrets about leaving their warm romantic nest as she slid between the chilly blankets.

"Goodnight, my love," she whispered after Perry put out the light and scrambled under the blankets.

"I could be mad at you for drawing me away from our warm fire," he scolded with a smile in his voice as they settled into the middle of the bed.

"You _could_ be mad at me, but you're not," she filled in.

"But I'm not," he agreed, pulling her close as they shared their limited heat. "Merry Christmas, Darling."

00

A noise woke Della in the middle of the night. She couldn't place it at first and wondered if it were merely part of a dream. Then it came again-a scraping sound in front of the porch.

She gently shook Perry. "There's someone on the porch," Della murmured.

"Maybe it's Santa Claus," came his muffled retort.

"Perry," she scolded.

"It's just the wind," Perry replied sleepily.

Della settled in again, but her ears were still on alert. Not a minute later, she heard the noise again, and she more insistently nudged Perry.

"There's something on the porch," she entreated. He propped himself up on an elbow, humoring her.

Suddenly, something crashed from the main floor.

"_I told you_," Della hissed. "It's a good thing we _did_ come up to bed, because there's a prowler down there now!"

Perry crept out of bed and slipped on his robe and slippers. Della followed him silently as he tip-toed toward the stairs.

"I don't see any lights," he whispered. "And the door's still closed." The silence was broken by the soft tinkling of bells on the wreath that hung on the kitchen door. Perry crept down the stairs and picked up a large law book to use as a weapon.

"Be careful," she whispered, following him and reaching for the telephone to call for help.

"Come out of there! I warn you, I'm armed," Perry stated in a forceful, demanding voice. Everything was still for a moment. "Say, who's in there? We've called the police," he lied. When nothing happened, Perry glanced over his shoulder at Della and pushed open the door with his foot.

Della yelped as something brown came flying out of the kitchen at waist-height and knocked Perry to the floor. She bounded around the small dining table to his aide but found him in the recipient of the excited attention of a scruffy-looking mutt.

"Get back, boy, get back," Perry laughed, pushing the dog off his chest. Giggling, Della knelt down and got a hand around the dog's neck.

"You were just cold, weren't you, fella?" she asked, scrubbing the dog behind the ears.

"He must be the stray that the neighbors mentioned was running around," Perry said, sitting up properly and joining Della in loving on the animal.

"There's how he got in," Della solved, pointing to the porch window with the faulty latch. It was swinging inward with the breeze.

"We'll have to see what we can do about securing that window. In the meantime, what are we going to do with you, boy?

"Do you know what every stray dog needs?" Della asked.

"What's that?"

"A two-and-a-half-year-old boy with a lovely little picket-fenced yard," she said.

Perry chuckled as the dog sat down on his feet. "Paul is going to _love_ us…"

00

Christmas morning was bright and beautiful. Snow covered everything: the great pines, the frozen lake, the front steps. The Drakes arrived mid-morning and they all delighted in watching Paul Jr. bond with his new playmate. There were presents and a grand meal, a few hands of cards and a walk across the road to see the frozen lake in its wintry splendor.

As dusk fell, they said their fond goodbyes. Paul carried his slumbering namesake out to the car and Gertie put the dog in beside his new little master. Perry and Della stood together in the doorway, his arm around her waist as they waved goodbye to the Drakes.

"Do you think Paul and Gertie will ever forgive us for giving their son a puppy?" she asked as the car disappeared around the bend.

"I saw Gertie feeding him under the table and the dog fell asleep at Paul's feet. If they're upset, they won't be for too long," Perry surmised.

"This has been as lovely Christmas," Della murmured as he turned toward her.

"Only one thing could make it better," Perry said, directing his eyes upward toward the doorjamb. A little bunch of mistletoe was hanging in the open doorway. Della put her arms around Perry's neck.

"Merry Christmas, Counselor Street," she said.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Mason."


End file.
